Page 9

PIPER

M y entire body is limp. I’ve never been so relaxed in my entire life.

And whatever he did at the end with his magic still has my body thrumming.

Ambrose and I are lying side-by-side, and I can’t believe I’m not feeling more self-conscious.

The sheets are pushed down below our feet and sunlight is streaming in through the windows.

I’ve only ever had sex in the dark, like it was something shameful.

Not for me, but because I’m pretty sure the guy was embarrassed to be with me.

But it never stopped him from hitting me up late at night with a “are you awake?” or a “what’s up? ”

Because I’m sad, and have spent most of my life starved for touch, I answered, almost every time. The worst part is that it was never a great experience. With Ambrose, it was entirely different.

My body feels flush all over, just thinking of the way Ambrose mapped the contours of my body, the way he explored me with his mouth.

Warmth rushes and unfurls in my stomach again, and I close my eyes.

I need to calm down. Ambrose and I needed to have sex in order to finalize this union between us, but I know who he is.

He’s not a settle-down kind of guy. And I’m not going to be some girl on the long list in his phone that he calls when he’s horny.

I’ve been that before, and it’s awful.

The phone rings, and I shoot upright in bed.

Ambrose chuckles. “It’s probably our food.”

He gets out of bed, striding over to answer the phone with zero self-consciousness.

And why would he have even a teaspoon of shame?

The man is beautiful. I’ve never seen a man’s butt that I literally want to sink my teeth into.

But Ambrose has that ass, and I just had my hands all over it.

He’s got those little divots in his lower back, and everything is all golden skin and muscles.

It’s so fine that I’m afraid I might be drooling.

I snag the sheet and drag it up over my breasts. As he smiles at me over his shoulder, I’m tempted to pull the sheet up over my head.

“You might want to put on some pants before you go meet the hotel staff.”

Ambrose chuckles before he disappears into the bathroom. He reappears wearing a fluffy white robe and strides out into the other room. I hear him talking to the hotel worker before he returns to the bedroom, rolling in a tray laden with food.

“I just ordered a bunch of stuff and figured there must be something that you’d like.”

I slide off the bed, taking the sheet with me. “I’m just going to…” I point to the bathroom and then take off like a frightened little rabbit.

I pee and clean myself up, almost avoiding seeing myself in the mirror.

When I catch a glimpse, I can’t stop staring.

My red hair is a mess. My cheeks are flushed and there’s beard burn on my neck and chest. I run a finger down my throat.

Is that a hickey? I shiver and slip on another of the robes that hang on the back of the bathroom door.

There’s a small table next to the windows where Ambrose is sitting. He’s already started on a burger. I take a plate of pancakes and sit across from him.

Ambrose searches my face, lingering for a minute on the hickey on my neck as he chews his food. “You all right?” His question is sincere. It doesn’t feel invasive but caring.

“Yes.” I exhale and for the first time in as long as I can remember, I feel relaxed. We eat in silence for a few minutes before I take a break on my pancakes.

“Is that all you’re going to eat?”

“No. But I need to tell you what’s going on.” There’s no sense in delaying. I need to tell him why I asked him to marry me. My eyes drift over to the rumpled bed. And why we had to do other things.

This is where I’m really hoping my sense of judgment is going to pay off. Because if Ambrose isn’t the person I think he is, I’ve just royally screwed myself.

“I’m going to give you some backstory, so bear with me.”

Ambrose swipes a fry through ketchup and eats it as he nods at me to go ahead.

I fold my napkin into smaller and smaller triangles, pressing the fabric until it’s smooth.

“My mom died in childbirth. My dad raised me until I was sixteen. He had a rough time being a parent. I think some people just aren’t cut out for it.

” That’s an understatement, but I don’t want to go into the depths of how horrible of a parent my dad was.

Ambrose makes a humming sound as though he understands completely.

“When I was young, really young, my father put a hex on me.”

Ambrose sets the sandwich down and leans back in his chair. His face is more serious than I’ve ever seen it. “Different from your family curse?”

As a firstborn of one of the founding families of Mystic Hollows, I’m a victim of a curse that has been passed down from one generation to the next.

We only recently learned that the curse could have ended with the first generation, but the assholes figured out a way to cure themselves by passing it along to their firstborn child.

They freed themselves by saddling a child with their curse.

I take a sip of juice that’s on the table. I don’t know if Ambrose brought it over for himself, but he hasn’t touched it.

“A different one.” I set the glass down and fiddle with my napkin.

“I had to obey any order my father gave me.” I clear my throat, then spit out the rest in a rush of words.

“If I didn’t, I’d feel extreme pain to the point where I could eventually die.

He also put a geas on me, so that I could never tell anyone what he’d done and made it so I wasn’t allowed to search for a way to break the hex.

” Sometimes, I wonder if the geas was worse than the curse itself.

I know there have been times when my friends have wondered why I did something, but I could never tell them.

I could never ask for help. I’ve been searching for a way around the geas for years.

This marriage to Ambrose is the first time I found a real solution.

Anger flares in Ambrose’s eyes before he schools his features. “Your dad’s dead, though, right?”

“He died when I was sixteen and I became the ward of my Uncle Tucker.” For a brief moment, I’d known peace.

That reprieve might have made what came next even worse.

“It turns out that the hex my father created wasn’t just for him.

It was crafted so that my guardian could control me.

So when Tucker became responsible for me, he also had the ability to use my hex to do anything he asked.

The geas to keep everything a secret died with my dad, but Tucker made sure he put his own on me.

He couldn't allow me to tell someone what my father and then he had done. He couldn’t risk me asking for help to break the hex. ”

Ambrose leans back in his chair. Every muscle in his body clenched. “But you’re talking to me about it.”

I take a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “That’s because you’re now in control of my hex. The geas is likely still in place because Tucker’s still alive. But because you control the hex, I can speak to you about it.”

Ambrose stares at me as my words sink in. He pushes back from the table, his chair rolling away and thunking against the wall. “Are you telling me, I have control over you like some sort of puppet master?”

“It’s only if you give me a direct order. I can’t refuse. And if I do–”

“It’ll cause you pain.” Ambrose finishes my sentence, his eyes darting around the room, as though he’s remembering scenarios in the past when I’ve been in pain for seemingly no reason. He kicks at a pillow that fell off the bed, and it flops over pathetically.

“Why would you give me this sort of authority over you, Piper?”

My chin trembles and my eyes water. I sniff, trying to hold back my emotions.

“Because I didn’t know who else to ask. I know this is a horrible situation I’ve placed you in, and I’m sorry.

But with Tucker's circumstances, he’s going to use this against me.

He’s already tried.” I could have asked Stellan.

I know he’d do anything for me, but the thought of having sex with my friend is…

revolting. I don’t care if he’s handsome.

He’s like a brother. I shudder just thinking about it.

Ambrose paces the large bedroom, the lights of Vegas glowing outside the window despite it still being daytime.

“This isn’t something you should be apologizing to me for.

” He drags a hand down his face, looking tired for the first time…

in perhaps ever. “What do you mean about Tucker? What has he tried?”

“He…” I don’t want to tell him all the times Tucker commanded me to do something against my will.

Whether it was a simple order to shut my mouth, or bring him dinner, or a complex command to betray my friends and let him cut me with a knife.

It doesn’t matter. I’ve had to obey him every time.

“He can ask anything of me, Ambrose. And he’s stuck in his house. He’s growing desperate.”

Less than a year ago, Mystic Hollows had two covens that joined together to form the Luminara coven.

Both covens were governed by a council that made decisions about how the coven was run, and essentially how the witches in our town were treated.

Both councils were corrupt, and when they combined to become one body, the corruption simply doubled.

Their plots finally did them in at the masquerade ball our friends Ava and Bram planned, and their house of cards came crumbling down.

It ended up with the council in shambles and the majority of them being placed under magical house arrest. Including my uncle.

I’ve been so careful to avoid him for over a month, but he’s commanded me to answer my phone whenever I see it’s him.

I did so well until the night of the new moon.

I was sloppy. He called, and I had to answer.

“Tucker is trying to figure out a way to get around the housebound spell. He wanted me to threaten Lucida.” Lucida is the head of the Luminara coven. She’s trying to clean house and build a better community for the witches of Mystic Hollows.

Technically, Tucker wanted me to poison Lucida, but he hadn’t gotten that far.

He merely requested I brew the potion at this point and I had to do it.

It’s currently sitting on my kitchen counter.

His mistake was that he didn’t tell me to bring it to him.

He told me I couldn’t drive anywhere but straight back to him until I had the potion brewed.

So I ran. All the way to Ambrose’s house in the pouring rain.

“I’ll kill him.”

I cock my head. Ambrose isn’t a fighter, he’s a lover. I can’t imagine him killing anyone. “No, you won’t. But it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m free of him.” At least, I hope I am. It doesn’t seem real.

“And now bound to me. Isn’t that just as bad?” Ambrose drags a hand through his hair, sending the blond locks into disarray that looks purposefully messy.

“No,” I snap. Not even a little.

“Fine, not as bad because I’m not a piece of shit like Tucker, but it’s not much better. You shouldn’t be at anyone’s mercy, Piper.”

I nod. “Now you can help me get free from my geas and allow me to find a fix for this hex. My father and Tucker specifically instructed me to never try. But if you say you’ll allow it–”

“Crone’s sake, I allow it. Of course you should try to find a cure. I’ll help you.”

Emotion overwhelms me, and a tear slips out.

“Hey. No. Don’t do that. Tears are my kryptonite.” Ambrose rushes over to my side and wipes away my tears.

“I’m just really tired.” That’s an understatement. I’m tired from the craziness of the last few days, but it’s the years of being under someone else’s control that have really worn me down. I’m so damn exhausted, always having to obey someone else’s commands, be at their beck and call.

“Fuck. Yeah. Me too. Let’s get some sleep, and we’ll figure out our tickets back home whenever we wake up.”

Home. A shiver of anticipation races down my spine.

I know he means Mystic Hollows, but it has the ring of something else.

Ambrose presses a button on the bedside table and shutters roll over the windows, blocking out the sun.

I crawl back in bed, ready to forget the world for a time.

Ambrose climbs in beside me. I try to stay on my side, not wanting to blur the lines of this marriage any further.

He reaches out, his hand brushing mine. I freeze, wishing I had more damn experience with any of this.

“Sleep. Our troubles will still be waiting for us when we wake.”

It should sound like a warning, but I find it strangely comforting. The real world can wait another day.